Sexual Assault Within Family Kyrgyzstan's Biggest Taboo
Tolerance of sexual violence in the family and lack of awareness about rights make it difficult to protect such victims.
Sexual Assault Within Family Kyrgyzstan's Biggest Taboo
Tolerance of sexual violence in the family and lack of awareness about rights make it difficult to protect such victims.
When she was raped by her stepfather at the age of 16, Ayday told no one. Because of his threats, she did not even confide in her mother.
Ayday subsequently got married, but her stepfather disapproved of the match and spread rumours that she had lost her virginity before marriage – still a damaging claim in Kyrgyz society – and had worked as a prostitute.
Her husband believed her when she explained the true story, but was nevertheless forced to divorce her by pressure from relatives who believed the claims.
Finally, Ayday’s own mother disowned her for bringing shame on her family.
Now 24, Ayday is bitter at the price she has paid for something that was not her fault.
“I want our laws to be changed – I don’t know how,” she told IWPR. “But this terrible thing that happened to me many years ago is destroying everything.”
Given the wide-scale perception that domestic violence is better not spoken about, it is little surprise that sexual assaults within the family are regarded as shameful for the woman concerned, rather than as a criminal offence to be reported to the authorities with a view to prosecution.
Experts agree with Ayday that Kyrgyzstan needs stronger legislation. They also want to see public awareness programmes to foster more enlightened attitudes and ensure the victims of sexual violence get the protection they need.
Accurate statistics on the scale of domestic sexual assault are difficult to come by, although the number of women applying to crisis centres offers some kind of snapshot figure.
Kyrgyzstan’s Association of Crisis Centres reports that of the 7,300 women went to the centres within its network, and eight out of ten reported domestic violence. Meanwhile, the Sezim crisis centre says that of the women it helps, 23 per cent report sexual assault.
A representative of the interior ministry said the number of recorded cases of general domestic violence was on the increase, although he added, “Statistics never reveal the whole picture. Most cases remain hidden.”
This man linked the rise in sexual violence, specifically, to increasing levels of unemployment, poverty, and associated alcohol abuse.
Many victims are unaware that they can get help, and those who dare speak out risk not being taken seriously by the police, as well as being ostracised by their families keen to preserve their good name at all costs.
Timur, a young doctor who gave only his first name, said he could understand why so many women suffered in silence.
“It’s a criminal offence to subject someone to violence. But women very often keep silent about it as they fear that others might find out what’s happened to them,” he said. “Unfortunately, there’s a widespread view here that if a woman has found herself in this kind of situation, it means she herself is to blame.”
Natalya Pavlova, a psychotherapist with the Sezim centre, explained that attitudes to sexual violence in the family fall within a larger pattern of attitudes within a society for which sex is taboo and associated with shame and disapproval.
“In families here, sex is a closed topic. Women do not discuss sex even with close relatives,” she said.
Rape and assault are punishable under Kyrgyz criminal law. However, women commonly do not go to the police when they are attacked.
Pavlova says that women, particularly those in the countryside, are often unaware that there are assault and rape laws to defend them.
“They don’t know that perpetrators can be punished,” she said.
When 17 year-old Meerim was raped by a cousin three years older than her, who was under the influence of alcohol, she did not tell her parents as she expected neither them nor the police to take action.
“For the law enforcement agencies, violence in the family, including sexual abuse, is not a crime,” she said.
When victims of sexual violence steel themselves to make a complaint, they may end up withdrawing their allegations.
Ayjan Jumalieva, a lawyer with the Women’s Support Centre in Bishkek, explains that as it takes several days from the time a complaint has been lodged until the police decide whether a case can be brought, victims generally have to return home and confront their abuser if they have nowhere else to go.
In this initial period of uncertainty, they may be pressured into withdrawing their complaint, including through physical violence.
Instead, Pavlova says, “it is important at this stage to relieve the victim from the guilt she is feeling. She should be offered a temporary safe place to stay away from the abuser so she can collect herself.”
Building a case and providing sufficient evidence can be difficult, according to Jumalieva.
“It’s often difficult or well-nigh impossible to prove that the crime happened. [If] it is a rape that occurred a long time ago… 99 per cent of such cases will not be deemed acceptable,” she said.
Psychologist Viktoria Tyan, who speaks on behalf of domestic abuse victims in court, says that on the rare occasions where a case gets to trial, the woman concerned may find herself under pressure from judges, who reflect the commonly-held view that abuse within the family should not be the domain of criminal law.
Judges have been known to urge plaintiffs to think of their children and ask them to drop the charges.
“They will hold off on announcing a verdict as long as they can, saying a reconciliation is possible,” added Tyan.
A woman who gave her first name as Yelena said she had reported her husband to the police several times, only to retract her statement and go back to him each time.
Although he subjected her to beatings and sexual violence from the start of their marriage, Yelena said, “I don’t want him to be convicted. He works and provides for the family, while I don’t work.”
However, Yelena is now looking at ways of escaping that would allow her to stand on her own two feet. She wants to find temporary refuge at a crisis centre, and has heard they will help arrange training courses in hairdressing, sewing and cooking.
“I want to get [crisis centre] accommodation and not be dependent on my husband any more. Then I will have a chance to leave him,” she said.
Women’s crisis centres, of which there are ten in the capital Bishkek, most with branches across the country, offer counselling and legal assistance, and some have shelters.
Meerim is among those who went to a crisis centre when she had no one to turn to.
“I would like victims to have more information about such centres. I was lucky, as a friend of mine told me about a centre, but there are many who simply don’t know,” she said
Alexandra Yeliferenko, who heads a crisis centre called Chance, says these institutions are unable to tackle the problem on their own, and it is essential for NGOs and law enforcement to work together and run campaigns to encourage people to be more aware – and less tolerant – of sexual violence in the home.
“Women should know the law and what their rights are. But the most important thing is that they [laws and rights] enjoy social acceptance,” she said.
As well as promoting greater awareness among women, Pavlova said, more needs to be done to prevent men from becoming abusers.
“Until now, all the help has been focused on the victims of sexual violence. But this year, some NGOs have begun conducting educational programmes for the perpetrators of abuse,” she said. “There is a programme that teaches non-violent communication methods within the family. It also includes self-analysis of the abuser’s behaviour, and a joint plan for alternative forms of behaviour.”
She added that in some other countries, convicted abusers are required to seek help.
Tyan notes that domestic sexual violence can inflict lasting psychological damage.
“Even if young women forgive their abusers and hold their silence for the rest of their lives, the trauma remains,” she said. “It’s a tremendous stress, and the more they try to forget it, the more it will come out and affect their later life.”
Still reaping the consequences, Ayday is sorry that she did not take action when she was raped eight years ago.
“I regret that I didn’t have the courage to speak out at the time,” she said. “Now you wouldn’t be able to prove a thing.”
Ayday subsequently got married, but her stepfather disapproved of the match and spread rumours that she had lost her virginity before marriage – still a damaging claim in Kyrgyz society – and had worked as a prostitute.
Her husband believed her when she explained the true story, but was nevertheless forced to divorce her by pressure from relatives who believed the claims.
Finally, Ayday’s own mother disowned her for bringing shame on her family.
Now 24, Ayday is bitter at the price she has paid for something that was not her fault.
“I want our laws to be changed – I don’t know how,” she told IWPR. “But this terrible thing that happened to me many years ago is destroying everything.”
Given the wide-scale perception that domestic violence is better not spoken about, it is little surprise that sexual assaults within the family are regarded as shameful for the woman concerned, rather than as a criminal offence to be reported to the authorities with a view to prosecution.
Experts agree with Ayday that Kyrgyzstan needs stronger legislation. They also want to see public awareness programmes to foster more enlightened attitudes and ensure the victims of sexual violence get the protection they need.
Accurate statistics on the scale of domestic sexual assault are difficult to come by, although the number of women applying to crisis centres offers some kind of snapshot figure.
Kyrgyzstan’s Association of Crisis Centres reports that of the 7,300 women went to the centres within its network, and eight out of ten reported domestic violence. Meanwhile, the Sezim crisis centre says that of the women it helps, 23 per cent report sexual assault.
A representative of the interior ministry said the number of recorded cases of general domestic violence was on the increase, although he added, “Statistics never reveal the whole picture. Most cases remain hidden.”
This man linked the rise in sexual violence, specifically, to increasing levels of unemployment, poverty, and associated alcohol abuse.
Many victims are unaware that they can get help, and those who dare speak out risk not being taken seriously by the police, as well as being ostracised by their families keen to preserve their good name at all costs.
Timur, a young doctor who gave only his first name, said he could understand why so many women suffered in silence.
“It’s a criminal offence to subject someone to violence. But women very often keep silent about it as they fear that others might find out what’s happened to them,” he said. “Unfortunately, there’s a widespread view here that if a woman has found herself in this kind of situation, it means she herself is to blame.”
Natalya Pavlova, a psychotherapist with the Sezim centre, explained that attitudes to sexual violence in the family fall within a larger pattern of attitudes within a society for which sex is taboo and associated with shame and disapproval.
“In families here, sex is a closed topic. Women do not discuss sex even with close relatives,” she said.
Rape and assault are punishable under Kyrgyz criminal law. However, women commonly do not go to the police when they are attacked.
Pavlova says that women, particularly those in the countryside, are often unaware that there are assault and rape laws to defend them.
“They don’t know that perpetrators can be punished,” she said.
When 17 year-old Meerim was raped by a cousin three years older than her, who was under the influence of alcohol, she did not tell her parents as she expected neither them nor the police to take action.
“For the law enforcement agencies, violence in the family, including sexual abuse, is not a crime,” she said.
When victims of sexual violence steel themselves to make a complaint, they may end up withdrawing their allegations.
Ayjan Jumalieva, a lawyer with the Women’s Support Centre in Bishkek, explains that as it takes several days from the time a complaint has been lodged until the police decide whether a case can be brought, victims generally have to return home and confront their abuser if they have nowhere else to go.
In this initial period of uncertainty, they may be pressured into withdrawing their complaint, including through physical violence.
Instead, Pavlova says, “it is important at this stage to relieve the victim from the guilt she is feeling. She should be offered a temporary safe place to stay away from the abuser so she can collect herself.”
Building a case and providing sufficient evidence can be difficult, according to Jumalieva.
“It’s often difficult or well-nigh impossible to prove that the crime happened. [If] it is a rape that occurred a long time ago… 99 per cent of such cases will not be deemed acceptable,” she said.
Psychologist Viktoria Tyan, who speaks on behalf of domestic abuse victims in court, says that on the rare occasions where a case gets to trial, the woman concerned may find herself under pressure from judges, who reflect the commonly-held view that abuse within the family should not be the domain of criminal law.
Judges have been known to urge plaintiffs to think of their children and ask them to drop the charges.
“They will hold off on announcing a verdict as long as they can, saying a reconciliation is possible,” added Tyan.
A woman who gave her first name as Yelena said she had reported her husband to the police several times, only to retract her statement and go back to him each time.
Although he subjected her to beatings and sexual violence from the start of their marriage, Yelena said, “I don’t want him to be convicted. He works and provides for the family, while I don’t work.”
However, Yelena is now looking at ways of escaping that would allow her to stand on her own two feet. She wants to find temporary refuge at a crisis centre, and has heard they will help arrange training courses in hairdressing, sewing and cooking.
“I want to get [crisis centre] accommodation and not be dependent on my husband any more. Then I will have a chance to leave him,” she said.
Women’s crisis centres, of which there are ten in the capital Bishkek, most with branches across the country, offer counselling and legal assistance, and some have shelters.
Meerim is among those who went to a crisis centre when she had no one to turn to.
“I would like victims to have more information about such centres. I was lucky, as a friend of mine told me about a centre, but there are many who simply don’t know,” she said
Alexandra Yeliferenko, who heads a crisis centre called Chance, says these institutions are unable to tackle the problem on their own, and it is essential for NGOs and law enforcement to work together and run campaigns to encourage people to be more aware – and less tolerant – of sexual violence in the home.
“Women should know the law and what their rights are. But the most important thing is that they [laws and rights] enjoy social acceptance,” she said.
As well as promoting greater awareness among women, Pavlova said, more needs to be done to prevent men from becoming abusers.
“Until now, all the help has been focused on the victims of sexual violence. But this year, some NGOs have begun conducting educational programmes for the perpetrators of abuse,” she said. “There is a programme that teaches non-violent communication methods within the family. It also includes self-analysis of the abuser’s behaviour, and a joint plan for alternative forms of behaviour.”
She added that in some other countries, convicted abusers are required to seek help.
Tyan notes that domestic sexual violence can inflict lasting psychological damage.
“Even if young women forgive their abusers and hold their silence for the rest of their lives, the trauma remains,” she said. “It’s a tremendous stress, and the more they try to forget it, the more it will come out and affect their later life.”
Still reaping the consequences, Ayday is sorry that she did not take action when she was raped eight years ago.
“I regret that I didn’t have the courage to speak out at the time,” she said. “Now you wouldn’t be able to prove a thing.”
